


take my heart, don't lose it (listen to your heart)

by carrieevew



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arkadia - a small town where everyone knows your business, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gilmore Girls Inspired, Jealous Bellamy Blake, Secret Admirer, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrieevew/pseuds/carrieevew
Summary: shortly before Valentine's Day, Clarke starts getting gifts from a 'secret admirer'. his best friend Clarke, whom he's been in love with for years.Bellamy is not handling it well.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 20
Kudos: 127





	take my heart, don't lose it (listen to your heart)

**Author's Note:**

> written for the lovely [Lea](https://helloeurydice.tumblr.com/) as a gift for the bellarkescord valentine exchange.  
> my prompt was **secret admirer**.
> 
> title from _[Cheri Cheri Lady](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eNvUS-6PTbs)_ by Modern Talking aka shamelessly one of my favourite songs.
> 
> enjoy!

Bellamy did not show his best side when Clarke moved to Arkadia six years ago.

After Vera Kane died and her son cleared out her old antique shop from the unit next to his, Bellamy had been making serious plans to expand his diner. Well, technically, Echo had been trying to convince him to change things up at Aurora’s, make the place a little more upscale, and he went with it—mainly because he didn’t have a good argument to the contrary.

When he found out that Vera had left the whole building to her granddaughter-in-law, Clarke (of _those_ Griffins), who decided to convert the space into an arts studio, it turned all those plans of his and Echo’s on their head and nothing was ever the same in his life—for which he didn’t hesitate to blame Clarke.

Echo used this situation as an excuse to try and get him to move out of Arkadia altogether and then broke up with him when he’d refused, Octavia announced that s he and her garage band of delinquents were going on a nation-wide tour and he ended up with a new neighbour and a whole new plethora of noises and smells coming from her studio, where she gave arts and music lessons.

Every day for months, he opened up the diner slightly surprised that Clarke Griffin was still in business. He genuinely doubted that anyone would be able to make a living by teaching the people of Arkadia, especially for her prices, but it probably didn’t hurt that she was independently wealthy—what with her owning an entire building on Main Street and however much of the Griffin money she’d inherited from her father. People wondered about that loudly for a while, as they often did whenever someone new moved in to their little town but even Bellamy had enough sense not to ask her about that.

Since she came, Bellamy learnt about Clarke gradually. First of all, she gave as good as she got, not that it surprised him. For every time he came to complain about _yet_ _another_ instrument she was teaching someone how to play, she countered with an objection about the smell of grease or the early morning deliveries. For every kid that came to him with charcoal-stained fingers, she could name one who went back with ketchup on their face. The situation was tense and potentially explosive but eventually, they both took a step back and chose to co-exist rather than dig trenches.

At some point after Clarke started coming to his diner for coffee and breakfast every day, he came in to her studio, asking to help him find a birthday gift for his mother. Clarke sold him a beautiful handmade jewellery stand and somehow, that turned into a tentative friendship.

Her daughter was a surprise, though.

Clarke came to Arkadia alone and never mentioned Madi, so when the girl’s grandparents brought her in a few weeks later, the whole town froze in shock and the promptly rushed into his diner, asking for details. He could still barely stand the woman at the time but apparently, no-one believed that to be a reason enough for him not to have the latest gossip.

When he finally learnt the whole story, it wasn’t even from Clarke herself but Madi, who wandered into his diner one day, asking for a milkshake and a pancake.

In between slurps and bites, the six-year-old told her entire life story to both Bellamy and all of his customers, inadvertently saving her mother the trouble of repeating it over and over again to whoever asked.

Lisping the whole time, Madi explained how Clarke adopter her as a baby, when she herself was only barely 18, how she decided not to go to med school after that and how it caused a rift between Clarke and her only surviving close relative—her mother. From what Bellamy pieced out, the state-wide-famous surgeon Abigail Griffin refused to pay for her daughter’s dream of pursuing art but there wasn’t much she could do—not when said daughter had access to the aforementioned fortune. The rift remained and for a while, Clarke, barely an adult herself, was raising Madi all on her own, until she was contacted by Madi’s maternal grandparents who decided not to contest the adoption but instead kept in touch with their granddaughter.

And then, once Clarke finally graduated college in the spring, she decided to move to Arkadia, close to the grandparents. They’d taken Madi in for a short time, while Clarke settled in and then brought the girl over when the time came for her to start school.

Over time, the two of them grew into the fabric of Arkadia. Madi made friends easily, mostly through the free dance classes her mother offered to the kids, and Clarke took to the organising of local events with such a ferocity and proficiency that one might think she was planning a military campaign.

Clarke grew on Bellamy, too. So much so that after six years of friendship he could barely even remember what his life looked like before she came into it.

At that point, there were a few things that Bellamy Blake knew for certain.

Clarke Griffin was like a firecracker—beautiful, exciting and exhilarating. And she could rip your fingers off if you weren’t careful.

She was steadily and silently spending an incredible amount of money on helping the Arkadians however she could—from funding college scholarships and paying off medical bills to funding renovations all around town. She never said a word of that to anyone but Bellamy witnessed one too many small miracles not to put two and two together.

She was also the loudest, most stubborn, opinionated and aggravating person he’d ever met. She argued against the silliest ideas during town meetings like they were the breach of independence. She argued with _him_ over the stupidest, most ridiculous things with a determination worth a better cause.

And Bellamy was absolutely in love with her.

***

The snow that fell during the night practically buried him and the diner, so after he’d signed off on the daily delivery, Bellamy picked up the shovel and got to work, clearing up the pathway to his door, Clarke’s and everyone else’s around the block as well, knowing full well that mayor Wallace once again failed to hire someone to do it full time, believing – _once again_ – that maybe the winter wouldn’t be that bad.

The morning rush started almost as soon as Bellamy put the shovel down and unlocked the door, and with his waitress Bree off sick, he and Miller were nearly swept off their feet by the crowd. It wasn’t until hours later that he ever realised that neither Clarke nor Madi came in for breakfast.

More curious than worried for the moment, Bellamy waved at Miller, standing with the spatula in his hand and rolling his eyes at a phone call he was taking, and walked out of the diner. He notice the lights were off in Clarke’s studio, so he didn’t even bother knocking. Instead, Bellamy pulled out the spare keys Clarke had given him and let himself into her building. He climbed the stairs to her flat, trying to remember which key opened her front door and which one was for the trash cans, but when he finally reached the upper level, the door was unlocked.

With the hair on the back of his neck standing up, Bellamy came inside the flat. He looked around, expecting to find signs of a break in but it was mostly the regular Griffin mess.

He exhaled and called out for Clarke. And then again, when all that answered him were some strange noises from the back of the corridor. Just to be cautious, he pulled out his phone, ready to call for help, and walked slowly towards the bathroom, the source of the racket.

Bellamy nudged the door open with his foot, not sure what to expect. But then, he heard a growl and Clarke swearing tiredly, and tension left his shoulders. He came inside and found Clarke sitting down on the floor, her back resting against the bathtub, face pale as a sheet.

“Are you okay?” he asked, getting her attention. Clarke’s head snapped up to look at him and she groaned again, aggravated by the sudden motion.

Slowly, she got up from the floor, closed the toilet lid and flushed the contents. She staggered to the sink and finally, she spoke, voice hoarse.

“I’ll live,” she muttered, one hand reaching for her toothbrush, the other grabbing at the sink for support.

Bellamy stepped further into the bathroom. “That’s not really what I was asking about,” he countered, watching as Clarke struggled to put toothpaste onto the brush.

“Well, then, I’m clearly not okay,” she grumbled, shoved the toothbrush into her mouth and started to brush aggressively.

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up but he paused before saying anything else. There was something off about Clarke since New Year’s but he didn’t dare ask about it. Then, she’d been tired and moody recently and now he’d found her throwing up? That was rather out of ordinary and no matter how much he’d dreaded the possible confirmation, he still asked.

“Are you,” he cleared his throat. “Are you pregnant?” he threw the question out quickly while Clarke spat out the toothpaste foam.

And then, she snorted.

Clarke straightened out and looked at him funny. “Not possible,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Yeah, he was sure his mother thought the same thing, about nine months before Octavia was born, considered how shocked and unprepared she was for a second child. And it wasn’t that he doubted Clarke’s ability to take care of herself or that she knew her own body it’s just—things happen.

He squeezed one of his eyes shut and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, don’t take this the wrong way but you know, no contraceptive is one-hundred-percent effective and sometimes, in the heat of the moment, people forget about certain—measures,” he stuttered, suddenly having a war flashback to having the same conversation with his sister.

Clarke levelled him with and unimpressed glare from over the toothbrush and then smirked.

“If that’s the sex talk you gave Octavia, I think it’s a miracle you’re not an uncle twice over already,” she said dryly, clearly reading him mind.

In a few silent moments, Clarke finished brushing her teeth, rinsed off the toothbrush and turned around to face him. Admittedly, she looked a little bit better but was still weak and supporting herself heavily on the sink.

She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. “I know that I haven’t gone to the medical school but I can tell you for sure, a broken condom is not all that it takes to get pregnant.”

Bellamy blinked rapidly, feeling himself blush. Not a very frequent occurrence but it did seem to happen particularly often around Clarke—not that he didn’t know why.

“I, for one, would also need a man and a little bit of The Weeknd for that, neither of which had made an appearance in my bedroom recently,” Clarke explained. “Or anyone else, for that matter,” she added under her breath, shooting Bellamy a quick look.

“Oh, _oh_ ,” he choked out dumbly, when the sense of her words reached him. He couldn’t quite decipher her tone, though. There was a twinge of longing and regret but with the way she looked at him then, he didn’t know what to make of it.

So, he didn’t. They weren’t really the kind of friends to talk about their sex lives, anyway. Bellamy wasn’t even sure if he would’ve survived any _details_.

Noticing the realisation dawn on Bellamy, Clarke nodded and pushed herself off of the sink. Weakly, she pushed Bellamy out of the bathroom and led him to the living room. She sat down on the couch and leaned back against the cushions, eyes closed.

Bellamy joined her, eyes not leaving her face. “Madi at school?”

Clarke nodded, eyes still closed.

“I’m sure it’s just a flu, probably one of the kids in my class brought it,” she said with a hum. “Either that or my secret admirer is secretly trying to poison me.”

Bellamy’s jaw dropped open but she couldn’t see him still. “What?” he asked.

Clarke waved her hand blindly towards the desk near the windows. Bellamy looked over and saw a heart-shaped candy box, lid discarded and half the pralines missing.

“Found it in my studio on the first of February,” she added, yawning. “There was a very sweet note, too, signed _Secret Admirer_. Madi ate most of it but I appreciate the gesture.”

“Are you sure it’s not a stalker?” Bellamy asked, trying to keep his voice even and not showing that he was genuinely bothered by the revelation. Who the fuck was that?!

Clarke opened her eyes just so she could roll them at him again.

“Thanks,” she bit back with a grimace. “Nothing makes me feel better than that.”

“I’m just saying,” Bellamy shrugged. “First it’s chocolates, then it’s a collage of your tiny heads cut out from pictures and in the end, you’ll be moving to Alaska because they’re camping out in front of your place. And I don’t have the strength to try and get used to a new neighbour all over again.”

Clarke’s head lolled sideways. “Wow, I can really feel the love,” she deadpanned but there was a smile at the end of that sentence, which Bellamy took as a victory. Anything to make her feel better.

Before he could say more though, his phone buzzed with a text from Miller, saying that Thelonious Jaha was back with his daily ‘this is exactly what I ordered and yet it’s all wrong’ complaint. Groaning defeatedly, Bellamy got up and rolled his shoulders. Clarke watched him silently.

“Say hello to Jaha,” she said with a wicked grin, knowing exactly why he was leaving. Bellamy knocked her feet off of the coffee table in retaliation but promised to bring her chicken soup later.

And then, when he came by the next day, he found Clarke running a fever, coughing and sneezing, and all too happy to tell him _I told you so_.

***

Things continued over the next few days. When Madi saw her mother ill, she promised to send food and escaped to Gaia’s, claiming she was too young to die so horribly. Bellamy was the one to actually deliver sustenance and therefor also the one who found the next gift for Clarke, a small teddy bear with a ‘get well soon’ note.

He tried to use it as further proof of his half-joke stalked theory but Clarke dismissed him easily.

“I called half the town, telling them I’m cancelling the classes ‘cause I’m sick,” she argued between spoonfuls of soup. Bellamy had to concede that one, not able to argue the simple fact that the only thing spreading through Arkadia quicker than communicable diseases was gossip.

Still, that secret admirer of Clarke’s was slowly grating on his nerves and over the next few days, things have only escalated.

Once Clarke recovered from the flu, the gifts went back to the more traditional Valentine’s trinkets and the notes got even more tender and sweet.

Bellamy grumbled every time Clarke brought in something new, whether it was another teddy bear, small bouquets of flowers or heart-shaped balloons. He claimed that it was just the way he was—always grumpy but truth be told, it was getting to him.

Clearly, whoever Clarke’s admirer was, must’ve been someone local, possibly even one of his own customers. It wasn’t just that the gifts were nice, they were pretty freaking _perfect_. The flowers were just how Clarke liked them, the candy were just her taste and even the greeting cards were exactly how she would’ve chosen.

It was very confusing.

Over the years, Bellamy sort of assumed everyone and their uncle figured out his crush on Clarke. Obviously, he never spoke about it and promptly threatened anyone who mentioned it to let them starve but honestly, everyone knew. Well, everyone apart from Clarke and maybe some undiscovered tribes in the Amazon.

He’d been the butt of so many jokes about it that it seemed obvious that all of Arkadia was simply waiting and making bets about when he’ll finally do something about it. Bellamy never once expected to have competition, especially one that was so proactive and effective.

He’d never been one to buy into the Valentine’s Day craze, always believed that he was better at showing his affections by taking care of those he loved, instead of making grand gestures, but this secret admirer business was making him detest the holiday all the more.

When Clarke came into the diner on the Friday before Valentine’s, carrying a travel mug with coffee made by someone else, that was the final straw.

She sat down at her usual table and grinned at him pleadingly, in lieu of actually ordering something. Bellamy came up from behind the counter and stood in front of her, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“We don’t serve those who bring their own refreshments,” he informed her flatly, uselessly. Clarke just batted her eyelashes with exaggeration and tilted her head to the side.

Bellamy sighed tiredly. “Fine, whatever. But good luck to whoever made that coffee, there’s no way they nailed all your weird likes,” he smirked, thinking about all the proportions and flavours she needed in her beverage.

Clarke just took another sip of the coffee and shrugged with one shoulder. “No, it’s actually pretty perfect,” she said and then, when his face must’ve done something to betray his surprise, she just shook her head and added, “I know that I’m one of a kind but I have been drinking if for six years, it wouldn’t take that much effort to remember how I take it.”

Sure, that was a very good argument, Bellamy couldn’t refuse. But on the other hand—

“You mean, your stalker is watching your ever move,” he countered.

Clarke just rolled her eyes in response, so he walked back to the kitchen to bring out her breakfast. He yanked at the plate a little too hard, almost spilling all of the food onto the floor. Miller sent him a glare but Bellamy ignored him, too annoyed to care.

Whoever that admirer was, they knew Clarke just as much as he did. And that meant that Clarke probably knew them, too. Maybe already liked them, even.

Bellamy clenched his jaw. The situation was getting a little too junior-high for his taste but what was worse, he’d found himself getting invested and emotional. Honestly, he would’ve expected that at 35, he would be above such nonsense—only this was Clarke and she had always had the uncanny ability to make him tongue-tided like a clueless teenager.

He made his way back to Clarke’s table, pasting a, hopefully, more neutral expression onto his face. But some of the worry must’ve remained because when he placed Clarke’s order in front of her, she frowned and motioned at the opposite chair, inviting him to join her.

“Are you really that worried someone’s stalking me?” she asked once he’d sat down.

Bellamy took a breath, thinking about his options. He wasn’t about to lay out the actual reason for his irritation over pancakes and blueberries, in front of all his customers, but there was a part of the truth he felt comfortable with at the moment.

“A little, yes,” he answered. “I’m not saying you don’t deserve to have someone serenade you with chocolate and stuffed animals but you’re finding those gifts a little too close to home, literally.”

Clarke chewed on her food, thinking over his words.

“If it makes you feel any better, from the language of the notes, I think it’s just some kid,” she informed Bellamy, smiling weakly. “If they make a bigger move and I find out who it is, I’ll just let them down gently and hopefully, I won’t need to talk to their parents.” She swallowed another bite and shrugged again. “I just think it’s sweet.”

“Oh, you’re really enjoying it, aren’t you?”

Clarke chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like to have someone tell you that your eyes are so shiny and your hair is so pretty?”

Bellamy smirked, smug.

“I’ll have you know that there are _plenty_ of people who think my hair is pretty.”

***

John Murphy ran a surprisingly respectable establishment but Arkadia’s one-and-only bar had never been Bellamy’s favourite place to be. It catered mostly to tourists so it was usually filled to the brim with loud, drunken holiday-makers, letting their hair down, so most of the locals only ever went there in large groups, to celebrate something.

Bellamy always believed that drinking there alone was basically asking to become a subject of gossip, mainly because Murphy didn’t just encourage the rumour mill, he almost certainly added to it as much as he could. Still, sometimes the occasion called for a beer somewhere other than his own living room and clearly, this was it. Clarke may think that it was all just some innocent courtship by one of the kids in her classes but Bellamy wasn’t so sure—or rather, he chose to be prepared for her to be wooed by someone else.

What he couldn’t figure out was _who_. He truly believe that everyone in Arkadia was either invested in his and Clarke’s non-existent romance or just found it ridiculous to watch. Hell, even her mother always had a biting remark about it to serve him, whenever he’d see her. The consensus that he and Clarke were already like a married couple made him complacent. He always believed that he’d have time to tell her how he felt but it was never a good time—mostly because he was never sure enough that she’d be receptive if he told her.

It seemed though, that he might be running out of time after all.

He was finishing the first beer when Raven appeared at his side, slapping his back in greeting. He barely even flinched, all too familiar with the mechanic’s particular brand of niceties.

“Hello to you, too,” he muttered while Raven adjusted herself of on the stool next to his and ordered two more beers from Emori.

“I heard that _the_ Bellamy Blake was moping at the bar, I had to come and see it.”

Bellamy cocked an eyebrow at her and just took another gulp without a word.

“Oh, come on,” Raven teased. “We haven’t had the chance to mock your romantic exploits in years, you can’t expect the town to just gloss over the fact that your platonic girlfriend it being courted by someone else.”

“Screw you, Reyes,” he answered simply.

Raven rolled her eyes and swivelled around one the stool, her back and elbows resting against the bar. She was smirking at him with a pitying look.

“If that’s all the comeback you’ve got then you really don’t stand a chance against whichever pre-schooler is spending all their tooth-fairy money on all that crap,” she said. “Though, I gotta say, either she’s really got no clue about the heart eyes you’ve been sending her or she’s got a really mean streak, bringing all that to yours.”

Bellamy put down the bottle with a loud thud and turned in his seat, facing Raven. “Do you have a point here?”

“Just that some of us are getting quite bored with your CW drama. I just thought I’d come here to tell you to stop snapping at other people and snap _out_ of it, instead. You’re a grown men, just tell her you wanna have her babies and be done with it. Just consider me an angel on your shoulder, or some shit.”

“And why would you want me to do that, huh? You don’t even like Clarke,” he countered.

Raven let out an exasperated sigh but didn’t deny it. Not that she could, really.

Bellamy knew, because she’d drunkenly told him, that Raven resented Clarke when she first came in. Just like Bellamy used to, she blamed Clarke for being the reason why her friend Echo moved away and why Arkadia changed so much. He also suspected that she begrudged Clarke for how easily the community accepted Clarke as one of their own, when they refused to do so for Raven’s then-boyfriend Finn—and that was even before they all found out he was a lying cheat. Clarke, on her part, only tried for a short while to make nice with Raven and in the end, they two women never hit it off.

Raven was at the very bottom of the list of people who he’d expect to actively encourage his relationship with Clarke. And yet, here she was.

“Look, dude,” she started with a huff. “I may not be a fan of hers, but I do like you, a little. And if the princess is who you want to be happy, then just go for it, before you’re both old and grey.”

Bellamy smiled at her then, genuinely. In Raven-speak, that was as close to a blessing as he’d ever get.

Satisfied with her tirade, Raven finished off her beer, climbed off of her stool, grunting when her brace got in the way, and clapped him on the back once again.

“Good talk,” she announced. “Now stop being so chicken shit and go for it.”

She nodded once, to accentuate her words and say goodbye and walked away, leaving Bellamy with the bill and a whole new mess in his head.

***

On Valentine’s Day, Bellamy let Bree and Miller leave early and closed by himself, relishing in the silence and the simple monotony of pulling up chairs and sweeping the floors.

Powered by Raven’s blunt but well-meaning lecture, Bellamy thought things over and, well, he kept his mouth shut.

Regardless of who the secret admirer was and how mildly creepy Bellamy found the situation, Clarke seemed to genuinely enjoy it. She smiled at every one of those little gifts, blushed when she read the notes. Bellamy could understand that she liked the attention and the nice gestures but it also didn’t escape his attention that it meant Clarke welcomed this courtship from someone—else. So, he didn’t say a thing. Even if it was just some teenager with a puppy crush, Clarke’s reaction to it seemed pretty telling.

He was almost done with the nightly clean up when the bell over the front door dinged and the door was opened, letting the cold air inside. Bellamy turned around swearing, ready to chase out whoever it was that didn’t recognise that he was closed for business, when he saw Clarke at the entrance, a large bouquet of roses on her hand and a concerned look on her face.

Bellamy startled.

“Someone left those on my doorstep,” Clarke spoke first, waving the bouquet in front of her. Her voice was trembling a little and with some relief, Bellamy recognised that she was more angry than scared or worried. That was something. Still, though. Just because she didn’t like roses—

“Isn’t that where you found all the other ones as well?” he asked, forcefully causal. He put the broom away and stepped in front of the counter, leaning against it.

Clarke frowned. “No, the others were left in my studio. This was on the doormat upstairs. Behind a _locked_ gate and another set of _locked_ doors. Someone got through that without even leaving a mark.”

Bellamy’s fingers curled into fists and he straightened up a little.

“Maybe you left it open by accident? Or Madi did?” he offered, trying for reassuring. Not that it helped _him_ to find this development any less concerning.

Clarke didn’t buy it either and her frown deepened. “After all your warnings about a stalker, now you don’t think it’s a big deal all of a sudden?”

“I don’t want to interfere,” Bellamy said with a shrug. Clarke huffed in disbelief.

“Since when?!” she exclaimed, a dry snort escaping her. “We’ve been in each other’s business since the day we met!”

“Well, maybe I don’t want front row seats to you falling in love with somebody else,” Bellamy shot back, irritated, and clenched his jaw.

Clarke froze for a long second, blinking. Then, her arms fell at her sides, the bouquet still clasped in her left hand hitting the side of her leg. Absentmindedly, Bellamy watched as several of the petals fell down to the floor and the one coherent thought left inside his head was that he’d have to clean it up before he left.

His head snapped up when Clarke let of a strangled breath, still staring at him with wide eyes and more than anything else, Bellamy wanted to go back in time those last few minutes and take back everything he’d just said. It was hardly a confession but if the shocked expression on Clarke’s face was anything to go by, even that was too much for her.

Bellamy opened his mouth, hoping to backtrack and salvage whatever he could but he was not given the chance. Before he even drew a breath, Clarke was already moving. She let go of the bouquet, the sound of the flowers softly landing on the floor deafening against the dead silence surrounding them. The bouquet hadn’t even settled and in few long strides, she was in front of him, hands reaching for his face. She pulled him towards her, climbing onto her tiptoes, and pressed her lips against his.

Blood rushed to his ears and for a split second, Bellamy couldn’t comprehend what was going on—not until Clarke moved her hand to the back of his neck, grabbed at his hair and pulled lightly.

And then, it was as if he’d come to life.

Bellamy wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her off the floor, kissing her back. Clarke gasped and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue darting inside her mouth. He spun them around and sat Clarke up on the counter. She was towering over him now significantly but it barely even slowed them down. Clarke bent down, not braking the kiss, and Bellamy wrapped her legs around his ribs, pressing himself closer against her.

It felt like ages, before they separated, out of breath. Clarke let out a heaving bout of laughter, her chest raising and falling heavily against him.

“So,” she huffed, smiling. “I guess I didn’t misinterpret?”

Bellamy chuckled and dropped his head against her clavicle. He felt Clarke run her fingers through his hair, nails scratching lightly against the skin, and he nearly purred.

“No, you didn’t.” He looked up at her and saw a happy grin on her face. “I love you,” he said simply. He liked to give a speech, sometimes, when the opportunity called for it. But with Clarke, there was no need for flourishes. With Clarke, it was just that simple.

She smiled impossibly wider, her eyes crinkling. Her hand ended up at his ear and she tenderly tucked a wayward curl behind it.

“I love you, too,” she breathed out. Bellamy tightened his hold on her thighs, fingers digging into her flesh. It brought a blush onto Clarke’s cheeks and he was ready to explode.

Clarke hummed. “Will you hate me if I told you that I brought all those gifts by to make you jealous?” she asked. Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up, surprised, and she continued. “It was my New Year’s resolution, to finally tell you how I feel. But I didn’t know _how_ , so I just—I don’t know, chose the most juvenile option.”

Bellamy smiled, fingers stoking over her jean-clad thighs, hips, waist.

“Well, it worked,” he admitted. “And if it makes you feel any better, the main reason why I was snarky and negative about your secret admirer was that I _was_ jealous and a little miffed that they had the guts to do what I couldn’t.”

His chest puffed with satisfaction when it made Clarke laugh. She tucked herself into the crook of his neck and sighed happily. Still, her back was arched like crazy and it couldn’t have been comfortable. Once the haze of excitement and arousal dissipated from his brain a little, Bellamy wrapped his arms around Clarke’s middle and lifted her off of the counter. Her legs were still encircling his torso and for a while, he just held her in place, enjoying the closeness and the warmth of her soft body against him.

Soon though, Clarke lowered her legs to the floor and stood on her own two feet, hands resting on his shoulders. Bellamy kissed her again, elated that he was finally able to do that.

“You wanna come upstairs? Madi’s at a sleepover at Gaia’s.” Clarke asked between kisses, looking at him with a hint of uncertainty, as if she thought that in that moment, he was capable of saying ‘no’ to her.

Bellamy pressed another kiss on her lips and with a nod, pulled her towards the door. With one hand, he turned the lights off. Still attached to one another, the two of them danced out of the diner, landing in a snowdrift. Clarke gasped high-pitched at the cold sensation and in that moment of distraction, Bellamy locked the door, before following Clarke to her building, their hands glued together.

***

Bellamy grinned the whole way up to Clarke’s place. She had her fingers intertwined with his and was tugging him up the stairs with neck-breaking speed. They held onto each other through each set of locked doors, stairs and corridors, with Clarke blindly reaching out with her other hand to turn on the lights along the way.

It took her three tries to unlock her flat door, distracted by Bellamy kissing down her neck, but when they finally came in and the lights went on, they both froze.

The entire living room was covered in Valentine’s Day decorations – red and pink streamers and balloons were hanging everywhere, rose petals mixed with confetti were thrown around the room and there were three more bouquets of roses sitting on different tables.

They both looked around in shock, taking the whole scene in, and then Bellamy’s hands dropped from around Clarke’s waist.

“That’s it,” he announced, his blood boiling. “I’m calling the cops.”

Clarke nodded her head stiffly. Then, Bellamy heard her terrified gasp.

Just as he’d turned around, Clarke ran up to a clothes rack in the corner and tugged at the traffic-cone-orange jacket.

“Mad—Madi,” she muttered. She ducked down to touch on of her old Doc Martens, now belonging to her daughter and Bellamy couldn’t find Sheriff Miller’s phone number quickly enough.

Clarke stood up, shot him a blood-chilling look, her face white.

“ _Madi_?!” she yelled, rushing down the corridor towards her daughter’s room. Bellamy stood there for a moment too long before if registered that Madi must’ve not gone to Gaia’s after all. But that meant that she was there, when—

He took a deep breath and with his fingers still clutching his phone uselessly, he followed after Clarke, calling out for Madi.

The two of them made it to her door and nearly fell head-first inside because just as Clarke was about to grab the door handle, someone opened the door from the other side and lo and behold, Madi appeared in front of them, unharmed and slightly annoyed.

“You don’t need to call the cops,” she said, rolling her eyes when Clarke threw her arms around the girl, hugging the stuffing out of her. “No-one broke in,” she explained once she was free. Clarke looked up and at Bellamy, confused beyond belief.

He sure understood that.

“Okay, once more, with clarity,” Clarke demanded, her tone stiff, just as it always got when she was trying to rise above her nerves, panic or annoyance and get shit done. But Bellamy noticed how she was blinking rapidly, keeping her tears at bay. He wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her that everything was okay after all, but first things first.

“Madi,” Clarke pleaded, following the twelve-year-old all the way back to the living room.

Madi stopped at the couch, covered in a red blanket and a couple of pillows, rubbing her hands together. She looked uncertain and almost guilty and Bellamy was confused.

“It was me,” Madi finally admitted, scrunching her nose. “The secret admirer? That was me. I wrote the notes, left you the gifts. I decorated the place,” she explained, waving her hand to display her work.

Clarke’s eyes followed Madi’s hand dumbly, like she wasn’t quite processing the words.

“But— _why_?“ Clarke stuttered.

“We heard Jordan’s parents talking and Mrs. Green said that someone should do something about you and Bellamy because she wants to be able to dance and your wedding before she’s too old and brittle to do so,” Madi said with a shrug. “So we thought, if you got all those gifts, maybe you’d think they were from Bellamy and—“ her voice trailed off and even despite the sense of disconnect from reality, Bellamy smiled weakly. Clearly, Madi’s plan didn’t exactly go far beyond the gifts themselves but still, the execution itself was quite impressive.

Clarke, on her part, had had about enough. With a heavy sigh she dropped onto the armchair, the confetti flying off the armrests. She rubbed her forehead and shot Madi a tired look.

“Mads, you do realise Bellamy and I talk to each other, right?” she asked, grimacing.

Madi smiled innocently and sat down on the couch, opposite of Clarke. “I’m sorry?”

Clarke huffed an involuntary chuckle. “If you’re not sure then you can’t be all that sorry, can you?” she looked and her daughter with a furrowed brow but it smoothed out quickly—what with her not really being all that mad.

“Hun, it’s okay,” Clarke added, gentled, with one hand on Madi’s knee. “It was actually quite nice, to get all those presents, so thank you for that. I was just worried, when we came in and saw all this. I thought someone might’ve come in and hurt you.”

Madi nodded, understanding. It finally dawned on the girl what it must’ve looked for Clarke and she at least seemed regretful for scaring her mother.

Clarke nodded back and with a smile, looked away. She shot Bellamy a fatigued but amused look and he finally moved from his spot. He walked to the other chair and perched on the armrest.

There was still the matter of Madi making a whole elaborate plan to get him and Clarke together but that was a subject for another day, when his ears weren’t still ringing from the adrenaline rush.

Madi got up from the couch, now significantly less burdened with the thought of terrifying her mother.

“Okay, can I go to Gaia’s now? I was supposed to leave before you came back but you’re early.”

Clarke exhaled and raised her hand in permission. Madi grinned and skipped over back to her room to get her things.

Clarke leaned back against the pillow behind her and slipped down the seat of the armchair. She looked sideways to Bellamy, an exasperated expression on her face but she was smiling.

The two of them watched Madi come out of her room and start putting her clothes on. She was halfway through lacing her boots when Clarke frowned again and straightened up in her spot.

“Mads, you said ‘we’. Earlier, when you mentioned your plan, you said ‘we’,” Clarke spoke, voice climbing higher. “Who else knows about this?”

“Uhm,” Madi hesitated and looked away. “Gaia, Hope, Jordan. Jordan’s mum.”

Clarke whined, baffled. “Jord—Harper knows?”

“She’s the one who helped me pick out the flowers,” Madi explained with a shrug. She finished with her boots and got up from the floor, swiping her long her into a ponytail. She grabbed her jacket with one hand, her bag with the other and ran up to Clarke to kiss her on the cheek.

“Bye Clarke, bye Bellamy,” she yelled and ran out. The door slammed behind her and they could hear her boots thudding as she ran down the stairs.

With a long exhale, Clarke deflated completely and landed heavily against the back of the chair again. She looked at Bellamy with a petulant expression.

“Well, at least I really don’t have a stalked and it was just a kid,” she joked weakly. Bellamy snorted and stood up. It wasn’t his place to discuss the thing with Madi at a time but sure enough, they’d all have to talk about it in the future.

He came over to Clarke, took her hand from the arm rest and tugged her towards him, urging her to her feet. She got up with a groan but then her hand automatically wrapped around his neck and she smiled. Bellamy rested his hands on her waist, kneading the flesh lightly. She hummed with satisfaction.

“I’m glad it all finally worked itself out, not that I wasn’t ready to fight off whoever it might’ve turned out to be,” Bellamy admitted, grinning.

Clarke snorted, her fingers brushing the back of his neck.

“I’m sort of glad to hear it. Still, one problem. How long before we tell her about _us_ , so that she doesn’t figure out her hair-brained scheme actually worked and ever tries to do it again?”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked this! thank you so very much for reading. comments and kudos will be welcomed like manna ;-)  
> come and find me on tumblr @[carrieeve](https://carrieeve.tumblr.com).
> 
> and if you enjoy my writing, i'm a part of the t100 fic for Black Lives Matter initiative. for more information about the project and prompting, visit [our carrd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/) or [our tumblr](https://t100fic-for-blm.tumblr.com/).


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